


Warwick Castle

by ununpentium



Series: Hamish Watson-Holmes [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Original Character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-25
Updated: 2011-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:09:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ununpentium/pseuds/ununpentium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John go to Warwick Castle for a day out with their son, Hamish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warwick Castle

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hamish](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/5056) by Valeria2067. 
  * Inspired by [Hamish](https://archiveofourown.org/works/329656) by [Valeria2067](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeria2067/pseuds/Valeria2067). 



> So valeria2067.tumblr.com first wrote about Hamish Watson-Holmes, and after seeing a picture of Colin Morgan (who Hamish is based on looks wise) I had to write this.
> 
> The Hamish Watson-Holmes series is a series of vignettes inspired by Valeria2067's Hamish. They are written as my muse inspires me, and may or may not eventually follow a bigger story arc.

\-----

Sherlock was sitting on the train with his face almost pressed up against the window; eyes flicking back and forth as he watched the countryside speed past.

“We’ll be in Warwick in an hour. You’ve waited two months to see him, Sherlock, an hour is not long to go,” John reached out for Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock turned to look at John, his features softening under John’s warm gaze.

“I miss him,” Sherlock croaked. John started stroking Sherlock’s hand soothingly, fingers tracing circles on his pale skin.

“Of course you do. I miss him too, but he’s only at university. He’ll be home for the summer before you know it and you’ll be back to arguing with each other about god knows what.”

Sherlock smiled softly before turning back to stare out of the window, his hand still clasping John’s.

\----

They arrived at Warwick just before lunch, and Sherlock was impatient to check into the hotel. John just smiled and let himself be manoeuvred by Sherlock into a taxi. John knew that Sherlock had been missing Hamish terribly since he moved to Warwick for university last September, and as Sherlock had been knee deep in cases (sometimes literally) all through the winter, this was his first opportunity to travel with John to Warwick. It was Hamish’s idea to go to Warwick Castle, he thought Sherlock might at least be interested by the castle dungeons for five minutes, and he was meeting them both there after lectures.

The taxi pulled up to the hotel and Sherlock all but flung himself out, grabbed his bag and bounded up the steps and into the reception shouting “Come on John!” behind him. John giggled to himself, paid the driver, grabbed his bag and followed Sherlock inside.

——-

“John, shall we leave now?”

“No, Sherlock, it has been precisely one minute since you last asked and we are not meeting Hal for another hour. If we go now, we’ll be waiting outside the castle for ages. And it’s cold.” John was trying to eat his sandwich and finish the crossword, but the whirlwind that was Sherlock kept breezing past him, asking questions and generally acting like an impatient five year old.

Sherlock sighed, ruffled his hair, and flopped onto the double bed, face down.

“Can I ring his mobile and ask him to come earlier?” Sherlock spoke into the duvet.

“You remember the rules, Sherlock. No phoning Hal when he is in uni. You remembered what happened last time? He nearly dropped his phone into hydrochloric acid because he answered when he wasn’t supposed to and you shouted down the phone at him!”

“I didn’t shout,” Sherlock mumbled, “I simply spoke more forcefully than usual. Mycroft had just informed me that the CCTV images from outside the students’ union the previous night were most illuminating about our son’s drunken beh-“

“Sherlock, we spoke about this. How old is Hal?”

Sherlock rolled over to stare at John.

“19. You know that.”

“Yes, I do. I also know that the legal age limit in this country to buy alcohol is 18, so Hal is perfectly within his rights to go to the bar and have a bit of fun with his mates. He’s at uni for god’s sake, that’s what students do! And Mycroft should know better than to spy on him.” John ruffled his newspaper, giving up entirely on the crossword. “I know you worry about him, but he’s doing okay. He’s finding his feet and settling in to uni, and I know you’re so proud of him,” John said softly. Sherlock stood up and strode into the bathroom muttering about having something in his eye.

—-

“- and I thought we could take a look at the dungeons? I thought you’d be interested in that, Father, and Dad we could go to the falconry display later-“

Hamish was talking excitedly to both his parents; John was grinning and Sherlock simply stood and observed his son, eyes bright and drinking in every detail. It had been two months since Sherlock had said goodbye to Hamish on the day he had left for Warwick after the Christmas holidays, and he was cataloguing all of the changes in his son. His hair was slightly longer; he was thinner but in a healthily, toned way; and his checked shirt reminded him of John so much his chest ached.

John had gone off in search of something to drink, and Hamish had sat on a nearby bale of hay; relaxed with his arms lightly crossed over his legs as he watched John in the distance. Sherlock silently took his blackberry out of his coat pocket and snapped a quick picture. Hamish heard the sound of the phone making the artificial shutter noise and turned to grin at Sherlock, before standing up and running over to him, finally enveloping him into a hug. Sherlock might not be known for his affectionate nature, but he never turned down a hug from his son.

“Miss me?” Hamish asked, voice muffled by Sherlock’s coat. Sherlock simply squeezed his arms around Hamish tighter in response.

Sherlock heard the click of another phone and he looked up sharply to see John holding up his mobile and grinning, a bottle of water in his other hand.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist!” John exclaimed. Sherlock huffed, hiding a smile and Hamish demanded that John bluetooth him the photo later. John frowned and mouthed “bluetooth?” at Sherlock, who dipped his head and grinned.


End file.
